


Spit me out, like poison in your mouth

by euromagpie



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: F/M, M/M, drabbles from tumblr prompts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-11
Updated: 2015-04-29
Packaged: 2018-03-11 22:38:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3335375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/euromagpie/pseuds/euromagpie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Basically just various Hartmon drabbles from tumblr</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

(AU - no superheroes/villains)

Harrison looked up from their shared chess game when Hartley took too long to respond. Not that they usually played at light-speed or anything, but his adopted son was normally quicker off the bat than this. When he saw his opponent he sighed pointedly.

“Hartley. _Hartley_ ” He snapped his fingers. The other man’s chair legs made contact with the floor again, as opposed to a few seconds ago, when Hartley had been leaning back on both legs, distracted by something outside the left window. Hartley started.

“What is he doing now?” His father asked, resigned to the botched game now. Hartley’s fascination with the man living in the apartment block beside theirs was a constant source of consternation for him; he was normally very well behaved, but the neighbour seemed to bring out the wastrel in him.

“Hmmm, apparently he’s walking around naked” Harrison barely avoided choking on air. It then occurred to him what Hartley had been so preoccupied with. Only his iron control stopped him from flushing.

“Hartley” He said again, rubbing his face with his hand like he could scrub the mental image from his mind at the same time. The man across him shrugged, seemingly blasé about the entire situation, and moved a rook. The sloppy move showed Harrison that Hartley wasn’t as unaffected as he projected about the whole situation. Harrison also had the thought that he probably doesn’t want to look under the table at this point (and wasn’t that a horrifying thought).

“Who am I to complain if he wants to parade himself around like some kind of man-for-hire?”

“Alright, alright, I think I get the picture” He smiled a smile that was perhaps more a grimace than anything else and plucked his pieces off the board. Harrison set his king aside. “On that lovely thought, I think I will get going. Oh and by the way, Caitlin said she hopes you’re well”.

Hartley stood and accompanied him to the door, and delivered one last parting shot as Harrison made his way to the elevator.

“No she didn’t!”

 

If asked, Cisco’s favourite time of the day would be exactly 6:35pm. If pressed on why, he would probably flush and distract the asker with some baffling yet interesting scientific fact. What he wouldn’t say is that that was the time his neighbour finished his shower every day (and what kind of person finished their shower at exactly the same time every day?), and that he had a tendency to wander around naked afterwards. And when Cisco says naked, he means _naked_.

It was now 6:35pm and Cisco had the sudden desire to water his plants, which he just got recently and placed entirely coincidentally on the window shelf facing his neighbour’s living room window. Not that there was any coincidence in the first place, there was nothing to look forward to through this window in particular, he wasn’t so rude as to leer at-

“ _Cojeme_ ” Cisco breathed as a very male, very naked body stepped into view, beads of water still hanging onto pale skin. His neighbour wandered around for a while, straightening crooked items on tables and pushing in chairs, occasionally bending over to pick up a stray object on the floor, and _wow wasn’t this a view_.

Not that Cisco was enjoying this.

The man disappeared for a moment before re-appearing with a glass of water, which he took his time drinking while staring at what was probably a TV out of Cisco’s line of view. The last of the water was drained into a tipped up jaw, throat bare and stretched, the warm summer sun casting an almost white glow onto his chest.

If he wanted any chance of avoiding hell, Cisco needed a lot of praying to make up for this little show.

In the other apartment the man finally dried himself off with a convenient towel. Cisco nearly felt disappointed, but not of course, because it was unethical to spy on naked neighbours which he wasn’t doing, he was just watering his plan-

_Did he just wink at me?_

Hello Hell, here I come.


	2. Chapter 2

(Everyone knew they were together, but they think they're being subtle)

 

Footsteps sounded behind her and Caitlin turned around, smiling. She stood up to drape her arms around her lover’s neck.

“Hey honey” She said. Ronnie chuckled, dipping his head to give her a kiss. After a second they parted and she went back to typing on her computer. He leaned over the back of her chair, firstly to see what she was working on, and secondly to trail his fingers over her neck, sending small shivers down her back.

Caitlin swatted at his hand.

“Stop it, you”.

“Sorry. What are you working on?” Just like every time he brought up the subject, Caitlin lit up, arms wandering through the air as she started talking about light waves and how she was close to disproving Einstein’s theory of general relativity. God, he loved seeing her like this, in her element, passionate. Ronnie dreaded to even think of a time where she didn’t smile in her workplace.

Suddenly the doors to the main lab were flung open, two men breezing through, mid-conversation. If it could even be called a conversation anymore. The argument seemed to be borderline homicidal at this point.

“You just don’t get it, do you, Cisco? The concept is correct, but existing electromagnetic theory makes the task of calculating it impossible. Take the Biot-Savart theory-“

The other man looked like he was about to explode.

“ _Oh my GOD_ , will you stop it with your science boner for Biot-Savart! It’s like you think everything in the scientific field has already been explained! If you’d just take your head out of your million-dollar ass for a moment-“

“Alright, then how do _you_ disprove the equation? Go ahead, Faraday and I will be over here, waiting for your small brain to come to the conclusion that every intelligent scientist has already reached”.

“Why, you-“ Cisco growled. Before the conversation could go on for any longer, the two were gone, still almost-yelling, down the middle corridor and out of sight.

Ronnie looked after the two, mildly concerned. He opened his mouth.

“Don’t” Caitlin warned him. She hadn’t even looked up from where she’d returned to her digital graph modelling, seemingly used to these random occurrences. That was a slightly disturbing thought to the engineer.

“Shouldn’t someone go and, I don’t know, calm them down? They looked like they were about to start beating on each other.

Caitlin gave an undignified snort; Ronnie found that adorable. “Be my guest, but I’m not going near the for the next hour or three; by now they’re probably screwing each other’s brains out”.

He twitched involuntarily, quickly squashing the horrifying mental images that popped up.

“ _Them?_ They, uh-“

“Oh yeah. They think they’re being subtle about it, but even Dr. Wells, try as he might, can’t avoid noticing that Cisco’s smelling like Hartley’s cologne and that Cisco apparently can’t keep hickeys below the neckline. It’s almost scarring” She elaborated mildly, fingernails still tap, tapping on the keyboard.

This time the shudder was a full-body shiver, the mental images rising with a vengeance. From the outside, Ronnie looked frozen as his brain fought a desperate war for its very survival. Self-preservation won in the end.

“Do me a favour, babe; never tell me about your co-workers’ sex-lives again”.


	3. Chapter 3

(science arguing, then making out in a broom closet)

 

“How would you propose to stop the beam at a few feet, then? Or did they not teach you about the properties of light in high school?” Hartley sneered. He almost regretted starting the argument in the first place; almost. Cisco was a great stress-relief in terms of mental sparring. But really, light sabres?

 _I’m going to punch him in the face, and then in the groin for good measure_. Cisco glared daggers at his nemesis. He didn’t want to actually be enemies with the other man; they were both intelligent colleagues at one of the most prolific scientific institutes in America. Hell, they should be best friends.

“Proves how much you know of pop culture, man. Light sabres aren’t made of light; they’re made of plasma beams contained by magnetic fields. Stay out of what is clearly none of your business”. To be fair, it wasn’t. Cisco had been talking to Desmond about the possibility of light sabres in the modern world when Hartley had obviously taken offense as he’d overheard a snippet of the conversation in passing and butted in. Okay, so he didn’t butt in, but he _did_ make another obnoxious comment under his breath as he passed. And, well, Cisco had to defend his honour, and that of George Lucas. Really, that smug mug of his was just begging for a fight.

“Tch, I suppose I should think myself lucky that I do not; considering the obvious death of brain cells that occurs if you immerse yourself in these cult movies”.

Cisco saw red. Before he could think he had Hartley slammed into the wall, fist twisted into that ridiculous high-quality tie. In the back of his mind he registered the fact that Desmond had apparently upped and left, and that they basically had the corridor to themselves.

The majority of his thinking was however focused on the fact that the two men were now close. Like, I-can-feel-his-breath-on-my-lips close. Cisco had never had the displeasure of being in this close proximity with the other man, but now that he had he wasn’t sure what to think, because _wow, his eyes are kinda pretty_.

Yeah, no, Cisco did _not_ just think that. He liked to think he had better taste than stuck-up assholes like Hartley, even if his lips were really soft-looking. And now that their chests were pressed together, he felt like he had a nice body under those LUXE-worthy suits.

Cisco was snapped out of his, a little bit creepy, contemplations by a small movement. Hartley must have felt the tension that was crackling between the two, because he was nervously running his tongue over his lips and swallowing, the almost-stubble on his chin brushing Cisco’s knuckles.

 _Fuck it_.

With his free hand, Cisco fumbled beside them, feeling for the broom closet handle he knew was vaguely around here. He saw Hartley’s eye darting to his wandering hand and Cisco took the momentary distraction as an opportunity to yank the door open and drag Hartley with him into the darkness. The other man hardly needed any dragging; he’d obviously caught on where this was going, and since he wasn’t protesting…

 _Well_. The door was pulled suddenly shut by Hartley’s hand and Cisco felt harsh lips crushing his own. But fuck, he knew how to kiss, even if it was rough, teeth clanking and tongues scraping.

In the dark, hands fumbled for clothing.

 

In the end, it meant nothing at all.


	4. Chapter 4

(drunk karaoke)

 

“Okay, wha- what the fuck _was that_?” Cisco slurred at his colleague, who was just sitting down opposite him again. Hartley’s hair was messed up and his cheeks were flushed with the beginning effects of alcohol. Really, Cisco had only convinced him to come along as long as Hartley didn’t have to drink anything; the problem with drinking though is that as soon as someone convinces you to have one little on it won’t hurt, it’s difficult to stop after that. That was why, half an hour after they arrived, Hartley found himself shoved up on stage, a song picked for him, lyrics glittering across the screen mounted before him. The crowd were mostly paying attention to him and his slightly foggy, attention-loving brain decided to come along for the ride.

So Hartley sang. In the back of his mind though, he was going to kill whoever picked Livin’ La Vida Loca. As his lips stumbled their way through the lyrics he couldn’t keep his eyes off of his colleague. Cisco was staring back at him, eyes widening with every line.

 _Am I that out of practice?_ Mentally, Hartley cringed; he’d taken singing lessons as a child. His mother had always wanted a girl and he thinks that’s why, subconsciously, she tried to make him grow out his hair, take singing lessons and almost made him do ballet (although he’d avoided that one by the skin of his teeth, only because Osgood didn’t want his son to turn into a ‘faggot’. Ha!). It had been years since he’d performed, though, so he was probably terribly out of practice.

When he finished, Hartley was nearly struck dumb by the applause that clattered around the room like raindrops. Wobbly, he made his way down the stage and back to his and Cisco’s table. Vaguely, he noted more than one hand that found its way to his ass, wondering absently if it was intentional or not.

He sat down and Cisco made his drunken exclamation.

 _Okay so I was that bad_.

“God, why the fuck are you clever _and can sing_. You must have been fucking Buddha or somethin’, last life, good karma dude”. It took a second to decipher the convoluted sentence, but finally Hartley picked out what he thought was a compliment out of it. He flushed.

In their slightly inebriated states, they were having civil conversations. Harrison had practically thrown them out of the door with a withering warning to ‘leave their problems at the door’. Cisco had reluctantly, on both their parts, dragged him to this bar. Now that both their inhibitions had been lowered a bit, Hartley had become less snobbish and Cisco had calmed down somewhat, he seriously considered the man in front of him. Shiny black hair, shapely dark eyes, the beginning of stubble on a fine chin. Suddenly Hartley swallowed.

 _Well shit. He’s attractive_.

Heart beating loudly, Hartley leaned across the table. In the dark club, warm bodies pressed up against them from every direction, nobody noticed the sudden tension between the two. In the background, another singer had come up to the stage. Flat-sung lines of Hooked on a Feeling drifted through the crowd.

Hartley was pleasantly surprised when Cisco didn’t draw back. Now Hartley’s lips were right next to his ear, his warm breath making Cisco shudder.

“Come back with me” He whispered.

“Yes” He answered.


	5. King of Subtlety

(Hartley getting (totally not) jealous over Ray and Cisco getting their nerd on.)

Hartley rolled his eyes as loudly as he could, hoping that Cisco would get the hint and pick up the schematics that he was holding. _Honestly_ , Palmer and Smoak had only been at S.T.A.R Labs for a few hours and Cisco was practically _falling_ over himself. Hartley didn’t know it was possible for him to be any more socially awkward than he normally was, but he had really exceeded all of his expectations.

And _really,_ if Hartley had to listen to another minute of their jabbering on about joint mechanics and combustion force versus aerodynamics, he might just implode.

Giving up, Hartley stepped forwards, cutting Cisco off just as he was starting on a tangent of alternatives to grills on air vents. Pointedly, he dropped the sheets of paper around Cisco’s chest height. The other man automatically stuck out his arms to catch the falling sheets.

“Next time you send me off to fetch you this or that like some kind of _intern_ , Cisco, be sure it’s something you actually need. We don’t all have time to spare to spend on your whims” He sneered.

Cisco cocked his head.

“Sure, _we_ don’t, but you do. Did you already forget Dr Wells benched you until your leg heals up? Maybe the accelerator explosion knocked some memory loose as well” He sniped back.

Hartley scowled at the response; ever since one of his more adventurous chemical experiments had ended up exploding into shards and slicing through one of his tendons, Harrison had forbidden him to do anything more adventurous than drink a very hot coffee. His instructions were made even worse by the fact that Hartley still stung from the Dr almost firing him for trying to turn the accelerator off. Sure, he managed to keep his position at S.T.A.R Labs after the explosion, but the dismissal of his, later proven correct, theory settled a strange feeling of distrust in the back of his mind for the wheelchair bound man. So yeah, Hartley wasn’t feeling too charitable to Harrison, and made to disobey his orders on the sly.

And he would have got away with it if it weren’t for Caitlin trying to look out for him.

Oh god, he’d really been around Cisco for too long, if he was already spouting pop culture references.

Cisco seemed to have taken his contemplative silence for verbal defeat since he shuffled the papers into a more comfortable arrangement, said a quick goodbye to Ray and shouldered his way past Hartley, making sure to toss his hair in his face as he went by. Hartley watched him go with a sneer.

Turning around abruptly, he walked over to the computer table, settling himself into one of the chairs. If it was the one deliberately labelled ‘Cailtin’s – DO NOT SIT ON HERE HARTLEY I MEAN IT’…well, invalids had to get their kicks somewhere.

While he logged on, Ray had turned back to his A.T.O.M suit, unscrewing a small plate with a screwdriver he plucked from his back pocket. After a few moments of quiet filled only with Hartley picking at the keys and the occasional squeak of a shifting wheelie chair, Ray broke the silence.

“Ah, Hartley?”.

Hartley made a display of being annoyed at being interrupted. Honestly, he was just playing minesweeper on the desktop, but it wouldn’t do to give Palmer the impression that he liked him. Which he didn’t. After all, the man didn’t belong here, filling up the space with his scrap heap of a suit, distracting Allen from his work, chatting up Cisco. Why did he keep doing that, anyway? He had a _girlfriend_. Disgusting.

“What?” He asked snappishly. Ray gave him that kicked-puppy look that seemed to be his default setting. It made Hartley very uncomfortable; it nearly made him feel _emotions_.

“Are you- I mean, do you think I’m hitting on Cisco?”.

Hartley blinked. Ray carried on, not looking at Hartley, trying to keep his hands busy.

“It’s just that you always seem a little, well, waspish when I talk to him. I just want to say I’m not, er, I’m not trying to steal your boyfriend or anything-“

“Boyfriend?” Hartley interrupted. That thing his heart was doing, a sudden increased thumping, should really stop. It was very distracting.

“ _Francisco_ is not my boyfriend. In fact, he’s about as far away from my preferred type as is possible. It’s really no wonder he never gets a date; his dress sense is abysmal, his vocabulary is peculiar at best and his theories are ridiculous to the point I’m still wondering how he got hired. I couldn’t care less if anyone _were_ interested in him. He’s only a distraction in the lab anyway”.

Ray was finally looking at Hartley. He looked a little bulldozed, and Hartley realised this was the most the other man had probably heard him talk, ever. Belatedly, he thought that how passionate his response might be, could possibly be telling. Telling of what, he had no idea, of course, since he had only spoken the truth. Cisco _was_ very distracting in his vicinity…

Thankfully, Ray seemed to have the social aptitude of a bag of bricks, and so accepted the statement at face value.

“Oh, um, alright then, sorry about that. That does seem a bit harsh though, don’t you think?”

Hartley cursed to himself as he blew the minefield. He could hear the scrape-clink of the screwdriver working again, indicating Ray had turned back to his work as well.

“Well clearly I don’t think so. You’re all free to worship at the altar of fools if you want, but forgive me if I happen to recognise idi-“

The door to the lab banged open and Hurricane Cisco blew into the room, excitedly waving a blueprint and already babbling a hundred miles a minute.

“-based on the power jets W.2 model, but if we apply the same theory, we could boost the propulsion by at least 20%!”.

Within seconds, he and Ray were deep in discussion, a black marker summoned and circling and crossing out parts of the blueprint.

Quietly, Hartley slipped out of the room, feeling strangely bereft.


	6. Quelle Surprise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yoooo, this one's not really Hartley x Cisco, but it has both of them in it, so this drabble's going in here.  
> Also, welcome WALLY! I've basically nailed down what I want him to look like in the Flash 2014 show. There's another drabble featuring him on my profile.
> 
> (In case anyone’s interested in my Wally West fancast, it would be Tequan Richmond, though I’m imagining Wally aged 25/26 here)

 

“-know you saw it during your job application, but that was mostly an advertising ploy, it turns out. It’s a lot like Mercury Labs, just a little…shinier”.

Cisco’s head popped up as he heard the oh-so-familiar voice of his arch nemesis waft into the cortex. It sounded unusually passionate, almost like Hartley was human and not some kind of faux-human robot created just to make Cisco’s life a living hell. Like having his own personal Terminator or something.

The voice faded out for a second before accompanying its body through the door and into the room. And yes, it was Hartley in all his Gatsby glory, but he was with someone else. A human. Voluntarily.

Cisco quashed the need to pinch himself to check if he was dreaming; if he wasn’t very much mistaken, the two men looked like they were _enjoying_ each other’s’ company. That just wasn’t right, nobody enjoyed Hartley Rathaway’s company (apart from Dr Wells, that is, but Cisco could make an exception for the other man; he was getting on in his age and who knows how many strange vapours he’d inhaled over the years. He was allowed the occasional delusion).

Hartley’s companion was a tall, gangly looking man, around 25, black, with a cropped afro that was dyed a bright orange. Hi-top Nike’s squeaked across the lab floor, and the guy had one ear pierced. That was when Cisco’s eyes alighted on the stranger’s shirt; black, with red writing across it, spelling ‘SITH HAPPENS’.

He looked exactly like the kind of guy Hartley avoided at all costs.

Cisco might have fallen a little bit in love.

“This is the cortex; normally it is rather lifeless, the majority of the science happens in one of the side-laboratories. Today it’s a half-day for most employees, so there isn’t a lot happening”, Hartley was explaining.

Technically it was a half-day for Cisco and Hartley too, but Cisco had nothing to go home to, just a cold flat. He’d rather spend the time brushing up on his work on the Drake Theory. Not that he was getting anywhere; it was a hobby more than anything else. As for Hartley, well, he didn’t really care, to be honest.

Finally Hartley gestured to Cisco, who moved around the table to greet the man, whom he just noticed had a ‘visitor’ lanyard hung around his neck. Mentally, Cisco was preparing himself for a scathing introduction, possibly commenting on his intelligence, usefulness, or attire. Possibly a combination of all three.

“Wally, this is my colleague, Cisco Ramon. He’s working with Dr Wells on the atomic calibration for the accelerator”. Hiding his surprise at the civil introduction, Cisco grinned, sticking out his hand, which Wally grasped, grip firm and strong.

“Cisco, this is Wally West, a…friend from college. He’s an intern at Mercury Labs” Hartley finished. Cisco noted the pause before he called him friend, as though that word was one he had never said before.

Wally spoke before he could examine that somewhat sad thought closer.

“Dude, I love your shirt!” He exclaimed. Cisco let go of the hand and stretched his shirt, checking which one he was wearing that day. Upside down, he read:

‘There are only 10 types of people in the world; those who understand binary and those who don’t’.

Cisco grinned back at Wally. It was one of his favourite ones.

“Yours is great too. Guess Star Wars is hitting back hard now, what with episode seven coming out soon, yeah?”

“Oh god, there’s two of them” Hartley muttered quietly.

Not quietly enough though, since Cisco had picked up on it. He scowled.

“Hey we’re having a moment over here – keep your downer attitude in reception, please” he jabbed. Cisco expected Hartley to snipe back immediately, as had been their routine since day one. Instead he looked…hurt?

Wally laughed. “He can be a bit of an asshole sometimes, right?”

And wow, if he had seemed hurt at Cisco’s comment, Hartley looked like he’d been punched when Wally spoke. Not quite managing to erase his expression, Hartley cleared his throat.

“I suppose…you two should get acquainted. I’m just going to go and…talk to Dr Wells about…something. Excuse me” he all but ran out of the room, the cortex’s door banging loudly.

“What was that ab-“

Cisco was cut off as Wally launched into a thousand questions at lightning speed.

“Tell me about the accelerator. What’s the shielding made of? Is there a proto-type? Can I see the blue-print? How is it powered? What-“

Rushing to answer all the questions at the same time, Cisco quickly forgot about Hartley’s strange behaviour.

 

 

It was only about ten minutes before Hartley came back, looking calm and controlled again, but to Cisco it felt like years. Man, Wally could really tire you out just by talking to you. And this came from _Cisco_ of all people. He was practically energy incarnate.

Before he could say anything, Wally jumped in with another question.

“Where’s the bathroom?”

Gladly, Cisco provided him with directions, watching him speed-walk down the corridor and out of sight. That was another thing about him; Wally didn’t ever seem to move at a normal speed, he was always walking, talking, gesturing faster than necessary.

Cisco switched his attention to his colleague, who was standing rather awkwardly by the doorway, clearly waiting for his friend to come back so they could move on with the tour.

“Where did you dig _him_ up?” Cisco asked, for wont of something else to do. Hartley directed a steady gaze at him.

“I told you. We met in college. After my parents and I had out…fall-out I spent a while as his room-mate. He’s a good fr- man…and” he carried on, before Cisco could make to speak, “he asked if you’d come along on the tour of the laboratories with us. So, I want to ask you to be civil towards him today” he finished. The request came out forced; Hartley Rathaway wasn’t used to asking favours of people.

Cisco cocked his head to the side.

“Civil? I don’t- are you _upset_? About that little comment before you left?” He asked in disbelief. They had traded far worse insults before, fazing neither of them. In response, Hartley gritted his teeth.

“I’m not… _upset_. I would simply like to make a good impression on him. S.T.A.R Labs and Mercury Labs have an antagonistic relationship in the first place, we should make an effort to appear as a unified front” He said.

Cisco tried very hard to hide his surprise. Hartley never cared of what others thought of him; not Cisco, not Caitlin, not even Harrison could convince him to play nice when he didn’t want to. But this Wally, he must be really important. Cisco thought back to how Hartley had stood with Wally well within his normal personal space bubble, the looks he’d shot him when he wasn’t watching, the way he cared about what Wally thought of him and his work.

“You like him, don’t you?” He asked in disbelief.

“No!” Hartley exclaimed. Unfortunately, he wasn’t very convincing, face flushing a deep red. He seemed to realise his cover was blown, as he slumped in a very un-Hartley like stance. He took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“What do you want?” He asked.

“You want me to beg? Okay. Please, _please_ pretend not to hate me. I will be cordial, you will be cordial. This way, we can get through this visit with minimal fuss, and we don’t have to spend prolonged periods of time in each other’s company”.

Cisco was still trying to process the fact that his nemesis had said please to him, not once, but _twice_ , when the subject of the discussion came back into the room, oblivious to the thick tension. Wally just breezed in, grabbing Hartley by the arm and dragging him towards the open door that led to one of the side labs. He looked back at Cisco.

“You coming? You’ve told me everything, now you have to show. Me. _Everything_ ”.

Cordial, cordial, Cisco repeated to himself in his head as he followed the pair. He predicted that this was going to be one _long_ tour.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed.


End file.
